


Normal is Overrated

by TheGirlWhoRemembers



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Character studies, Cyclone, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humour, Introspection, One Shot Collection, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 19,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWhoRemembers/pseuds/TheGirlWhoRemembers
Summary: One-shot series. They're not normal. Their cyclone's not normal. They're crazy, weird, a tad dysfunctional, and altogether different, but what family isn't? Latest update: It’s Christmas! Sylvester cooks turkey, Toby tries to organize costumes, Happy decorates, Walter makes crackers, Ralph wants to open presents, Cabe drinks eggnog, Megan eats, and Paige sees something that no one else does.





	1. It Didn't Take Long

**Author's Note:**

> These were all written very early in the run of the show. They were written as the show was first airing, and the most recent they follow canon up to is 1.11, Revenge. Everything set after this point in time (which was written as speculation) should now be considered AU. 
> 
> This is essentially complete, and I will try and post one chapter a day until I run out of chapters.

It doesn’t really take all that long for her to come to appreciate them. To see beyond what almost everyone else saw. To see the _people_ they were behind the astronomically high IQs and the arrogance, the cynicism, the bluster, the anxiety-ridden dorkiness. 

They were _good_ people.

They were _kind._ Regardless of the whole high IQ/low EQ thing, they were. Maybe they couldn’t process it, couldn’t acknowledge it, but there were the kindest people she’d ever met. They _cared_ , they really did. 

It was obvious, even for a normal like her.

They took in her son. They took in her precious little boy. He was a stranger to them (and they were not good with strangers, outsiders- it took them long enough for them to accept her) but they’d taken him in instantly. 

Sylvester never coped well with strangers- but there he was, playing chess with Ralph the very first time they’d met. Happy was all hard edges, cool and strong like the metal she loved to have in her hands- but Paige had never seen her softer or gentler than with her son. Toby was reckless and irresponsible- but he was careful with Ralph. Walter was an arrogant know-it-all, and supposedly emotionless, but there he was, holding Ralph’s hand, running his hands through his hair, explaining things she would never understand to him, hell, wearing a Halloween costume (however similar to his normal attire) for his Halloween party. Being...well, the closest thing Ralph had ever had to a father. Telling him that they were a cyclone. A _family._

They’d reached out to him (to _her_ ) because they wanted Ralph to have what they never had. _A family. A place to call home. A place to belong. A place where he was accepted and loved and appreciated for what he was. The real deal. The genuine article. Not the patchwork, cobbled-together little family of misfits they’d created for themselves (as wonderful as that was) but a genuine family, a genuine home, from childhood._

They wanted to _help._ They really did. Regardless of the condescension and the disasters and the rants and raves, the criticisms and the complaints, they really did want to help people. To save them, to fix their problems, to make their lives better. 

She’d known that, right from the moment he told her that she had to help Ralph. She’d known that, right from the instant he started shutting down, just like Ralph, because he was _scared_ because people were going to die. She’d known from that look in his eyes when he told Cabe that he did not know how to solve the problem, and that he’d have to activate the fourth option. She’d known from the way he’d yelled at her _don’t lecture me about how people dying will make me feel. I already know._

And every day she spent with them, the more and more evidence she saw of their desire to _make good._

Offering her a job. Saving her from a bullet. Making Ralph a Halloween costume. Chasing bad guys, regardless of their ineptitude in that division. Touching a germ-ridden door handle. 

Sure, they had some...interesting...ways of expressing and executing their desire to help (slashing a supposedly valuable painting, streaky nail polish, anaemia, bags under her eyes, getting a man fired because of his small hands...then trying to help him set up a scone business) but it was _there._

And, in some ways, they were just like normals. There were moments when they were just like everybody else. (Even if they’d never realize it...or admit it.)

Cooking chicken piccata. Barbecues on the roof. Letting loose in Vegas. Happy and Toby’s bickering/flirting. Sylvester’s adoration of Super Fun Guy. Walter’s love for his sister, his rage at the man who’d sent the virus to the Governor’s daughter’s computer, his not quite knowing where to put his hands, like a nervous teenage boy dancing with a pretty girl for the first time...

And there were moments where they far exceeded what most normals would ever be, or ever do. ( _And not in the IQ department._ )

For a man who could not be helped by pep talks, Walter was pretty good at them. _I won’t let anything happen to you...Everyone fits in eventually...You are one of us. We can’t do this without you._

What they’d do for each other, for their cyclone, was nothing short of amazing. (And brave. And courageous. And indicative of feelings they definitely felt, even if they couldn’t quite understand or process them. Regardless of the logic, the calculations of probabilities and potentialities that she knew ran through their minds.)  
Crawling through air ducts. Taking a zip line ten storeys up. Driving a car for the first time. Drawing guards away. Staying behind alone to deal with a bomb. Force feeding a friend, in a valiant attempt to save them from themselves. 

Their willingness to try something new, to move out of that little sphere they were comfortable in.

Chasing bad guys. Eating her, no, their chicken piccata, despite their lack of a chicken thermometer. Inviting her into their little group, irrevocably changing the dynamic, because they (well, at least Walter) knew they needed to, well, not change, but to _grow._ Trying Halloween costumes. Dancing. Attempting to learn to appreciate art (however dismal the attempt). 

They are _good._

They are crazy and unreasonable, arrogant and insufferable, downright rude at times, and almost always bizarre. 

(So are a lot of normal people.)

But they are also kind and caring and sweet and moral and heroic and brave. 

(And quite a few normal people are not.)


	2. Romantic

He was never going to be romantic.

She knew it, from the very beginning.

He’d told her as such, when they started officially moving from friends and colleagues to something more. (She would never forget _that_ pros and cons list.)

And besides, it was obvious, because he was like no other man she’d ever met. (And would ever meet- it sounds like an exaggeration, but he did compute the probabilities for her, and he agrees. He discounted Ralph, of course.)

He doesn’t buy her jewellery or flowers. (But, after one...well, embarrassing and rage-inducing incident, he is quite sensitive, for him at least, around her time of the month. And during that time, she always seems to find a banana and a bar of chocolate on her desk every day.) 

He refuses to celebrate Valentine’s Day. _Commercialized, completely ridiculous interpretation of a Christian holiday, which was in turn a modified Pagan fertility rite, which had no scientific basis by the way, that has been recast by Hollywood and florists and greeting card manufacturers and chocolate producers for their benefit!_ (But, before they start living together, he comes over to her place, or she goes to his, at least twice a week, and it’s just him, her and Ralph- watching/dissecting movies, stargazing or playing games- and it’s like they’re a _normal, almost Hollywood, fairytale_ family- well at least as normal a family as one with two geniuses can be.) 

He doesn’t understand anniversaries, and doesn’t consider birthdays significant. (But he never forgets one, and he _does_ celebrate, in a low-key, awkward fashion that she’s come to view as _him_ for _her sake_.)

It’s the most interesting marriage proposal she’s ever received (and will ever receive). Flowcharts and pros and cons lists and supporting calculations, excerpts from highly rated peer-reviewed journals and decision trees...and photos of their cyclone, photos of the two of them with Ralph, him asking her son for his blessing (despite knowing his thoughts on having Walter as his real, legal father), that earnest nervousness, fear, insecurity (such an unusual look on his face) when he’d asked, the blush on his cheeks when she’d teasingly suggested _you should have known I would have said yes, genius_ (and what he’d whispered into her ear in response: _There is a distinction between knowing and believing with absolute certainty._ ) And that diamond ring he’d made her, with assistance from Happy, from scratch (diamond and all- because diamonds and jewellery are horrendously overpriced and if he was going to spend money on such a frivolous object, he was going to minimize the cost), just because he knew she would want one (after all- engagement rings were fairly pointless; while they did signal a woman was in a committed relationship, they were quickly replaced with another that served the same purpose, thus they did not justify their cost. Regardless, she got one. Toby attributes the decision to ‘jealous caveman Walter’.)

He is like no other man she will ever meet. 

He is like no other man she has ever dated.

He is _Walter._

And that is why she loves him.

(And, she loves him regardless, but he might actually be a little bit romantic.)


	3. White Picket Fence

Happy doesn’t like Paige much at first. She’s suspicious of newcomers, of letting people in (she’s been abandoned all her life) and she doesn’t like the suggestion that somehow she can’t look after herself (because she can, she’s been doing it her entire life) and she doesn’t want some fragile wallflower hanging around and looking pretty ( _she is not jealous_ , even if she doesn’t like that feeling in her gut that she can process and understand- she has a much higher EQ than Walter- but _doesn’t really want to_ when Toby comments on how attractive the other woman is)

But then she realizes, learns, that Paige is as tough as she is. (Taking into account the fact that she is far more emotional and hence far more susceptible to emotional breakdowns and damage than she is.)

She’s a single mother, raising a genius son, working two jobs to try and provide for him. (Difficult to say the least- _her_ father had a wife, _her_ father didn’t need the two jobs, _her_ father could provide. Yet it was _her_ father who abandoned her, and Paige would _never_ abandon Ralph as long as she was alive.) 

She braves a ten-storey-up zip line for her. (Happy’s always been let down by people. She always expects the worst from them. So when someone does the best...)  
She stands up to Walter. (Sly doesn’t dare, Toby does sometimes, but before Paige, Happy’s really the only one who will call him out whenever he’s being an absolute arse) 

She pushes and prods them, especially Walter (but always with a gentle strength that Happy will never manage) to look after themselves, try and see things from a new perspective, to grow as people (and hence, quite possibly as intellects- she’s too smart to not consider that). 

Paige (she will admit it, because they are, as objectively as such a judgement can be, an absolute pain a lot of the time) puts up with them. 

No, she does more than that. She _cares_ for them. She probably even loves them. (Happy doesn’t believe in miracles. But if she did, that would be a miracle.)   
Paige wins her respect, and dare she say it, her friendship. 

So she is happy to have the woman around, caring for them, pulling them out of the rabbit hole when they get in too deep, forcing them to eat their vegetables and talk about their feelings...sometimes. (She’s smart enough to know that she shouldn’t push _too_ often.)

If Happy was normal, she’d be upset, being usurped from her old role of caring for Team Scorpion, forcing her friends out of the rabbit hole. (That used to be her job, before Paige came along. Not because she’s the woman, but because...well, none of the others could do it.) 

But she’s intelligent and logical enough (not Walter level, but still) to know, understand and accept that Paige does it better than she ever will (and that does not make her jealous. She is not petty). Besides, it gives her more time with her tools and her latest project, a particularly stubborn motorcycle engine. 

And she sees what Paige does for Walter, for all of them, bringing them together, binding their little family of misfits. 

Anyone or anything (man, woman, child, eggplant) that can make Walter return a _painting_ to its rightful heirs, and break laws and defy his bosses while doing so, is a force to be reckoned with.

(And then she knows, that one day, their little cyclone is going to have a _proper_ family, with Mom, Dad and kids. That thought makes her feel a little warmer inside. Not that their cyclone isn’t great already, but she, like the others, wants Ralph to have everything they never had.) 

(And maybe it makes her kind of wish that she could have a _proper_ family too.)

(And maybe, just maybe...she’s coming to realize that she can.)


	4. Need and Want

He knew that they needed someone like her. Or he wouldn’t have hired her, simple as that. (It would have been illogical to hire her if they did not need her, after all.) _He knew_ they could not do it without her.

That didn’t mean he always liked having her around. There were moments when he felt annoyed by her. But there were moments where he felt annoyed by Toby, Happy, and Sylvester. There were a large number of moments where he felt annoyed (and worse) by Cabe.

It didn’t change the fact that they needed her around, that _he_ needed her around.

He might insist that he had no emotions, but he did know that wasn’t _really_ true (he was far too intelligent to believe otherwise), as Toby had long insisted.

She once told him that she was sure he felt the same things that she did, that normals did, but couldn’t quite process it, deal with it. He acknowledged that she was right, even if he hated admitting any sort of weakness on his part, even if he hated being wrong. She was _right,_ and it would be stupid to continue insisting otherwise.

He needed her around to help him learn how to process those feelings.

And it had to be Paige. Not just any normal, specifically Paige.

She was the parent of a genius. There were not that many parents of geniuses out there.

She was the parent of a genius who genuinely cared for and wanted to understand her child. Who might at times be frustrated by them, but were in it for the long haul and determined to do right by their offspring.

By having her around, he, they were able to mentor Ralph far more often than if she was not in their team. They did not have to travel significantly or specifically set aside time to do so. By paying her a wage, employing her, he was able to ensure that Ralph was well provided for without any extra cost. It was efficient.

She was of a similar age to them, hence would likely live for a similar period of time, be capable of keeping up with them, be slightly more similar to them compared to individuals of a different age group, and would almost always be in a similar stage of life to them. Therefore, she was particularly compatible with them.

Paige did not have a better job, and was unlikely to receive any offers for better employment. Therefore, she would likely have taken the job. She would also likely be here to stay. (They did not cope well with change, particularly Sylvester.)

Paige was unusually kind, patient and strong. She was kind enough to accept them for what they were. Patient and tolerant enough to put up with their behaviour. Strong enough to stand up to him. (He knew he needed someone to do that. He didn’t like it, but he knew he _needed_ it.)

She was an American citizen. (Necessary for their line of work.)

She spoke English fluently. She lived in the same city as they did. (Necessary for her work.)

The probability of him encountering another individual with such qualifications, in such a situation, was extremely small. So small that it was completely insignificant.

It could only be Paige.

_Only she could do this job._

He is aware, now, that there is something else to it. Something he can’t quite process or understand or put a finger on. (It disturbs him a little. But with the newfound openness, the newfound willingness to perhaps start to _try_ and process, acknowledge and voice these strange sensations, that she has been encouraging, he resists the urge to lock them away completely.)

He did not need Hetty or Toby’s hints to realize this. He is not completely, totally ignorant of human interaction and relationships. He has had several girlfriends, regardless of how unfavourable the outcomes were. He did pick up on Toby’s defence of Happy’s honour, and he did know the implications of that. Perhaps he did not quite understand it himself (couldn’t process it properly) but he’d seen enough television and enough movies to know what it meant.

He realizes, to use the vernacular, that there is _something_ going on between them. He realizes that there is some sort of _connection._ (One of those elusive precious _connections_ that he has always wanted, but never really been able to grasp. Or maybe never been willing to try hard enough to.)

He had odd...sensations...feelings around her – not just the biological reactions to aesthetically pleasing and physically attractive women that he’d experienced for quite some time now (he was a young, healthy, heterosexual male after all. And he was a genius, not a monk), but other reactions.

For example, an increased desire to smile around her, or to demonstrate some kind of affection. Or to make jokes, just to see her smile or laugh. Occasional symptoms of nervousness- slight tremors in the hands, increased sweat secretion in his palms, slightly elevated heart rate.

He found himself doing strange, illogical things. Those disconcerting moments where his emotions overrode his logic and analytical abilities were becoming more frequent and were distinctly correlated with Paige. He was near-certain that there was causation there.

(He has an IQ of 197. Of course he realized that resetting the device was equivalent to Ralph painting her nails. He is not as certain about his desire, _need_ , to know how much longer there was before the cloning was complete, or the desire to cause physical harm to Lebeau, or to return the painting to the Muellers, or to assign himself the surname of Gauguin. But he believes they are similar to Toby’s desire to defend Happy’s honour.)

He finds himself cataloguing more of their interactions for analysis at a later date, when he has the time to focus on them with _all_ his attention. (He believes that they warrant it.)

He finds one specific type of these interactions particularly intriguing. (And he revisits them in his mind with far greater frequency than he does any of the other types.)

Every time he goes down the rabbit hole after Mark Collins’ return, food and drink, appeared in his hands at seemingly random intervals. (Keeping track of time was near impossible in that state.) He never really recalled what it was, specifically, or how it got there, or who gave it to him. He never really recalled eating it, or drinking it, but he knew it happened. Whenever he emerged from the rabbit hole, he looked healthier than he’d ever been before when he’d returned to the real world.

When he goes down, he goes deep. He can be gone for days and days on end. ( _Ten day bender with Collins)._ He knows it’s not good for him, knows that while he’s down there, lost in pure thought, the world is moving around him, lives are being lived, things are happening. _Someone_ has to pull him out eventually.

In the past, that was Happy, who dragged him kicking and screaming out of Wonderland with sheer force of will and personality.

Now?

‘Walter?’

Lost, drowning, in thoughts, in ideas, in numbers and words and patterns, completely consumed by them, he hears a voice. ( _A very nice and familiar voice, one that he likes very much_ , some tiny part of his subconscious tells him.)

And then somehow, he finds himself being led, gently but firmly (like her) out of the rabbit hole. She clasps his hand and guides him, pulling him back up.

Emerging back into the garage, he blinks. Once, twice. Then he smiles up at her.

Paige smiles back.

‘Welcome home, Walter.’


	5. My Job

It isn’t about trying to make them normal.

Might look like it sometimes. People, those outside their cyclone, might see it that way. But it isn’t.

It was about giving them somewhere to be themselves. A place to feel safe, a place to call home, a place to be together and support one another.

It was about helping them cope, in a world that was not built for them. (Paying the bills when they forget. Resolving the problem caused by Sylvester’s OCD so he could do the necessary calculations, helping him to overcome his fear so he could touch that door handle, but not saying a word or doing a thing when he arranged all his M&Ms into groups by colour and ate them in order of ascending frequency.)

It was about preventing them from hurting themselves. (Pulling them out of the rabbit hole, ensuring they ate semi-regular meals. Trying to help them deal with their feelings- they had them, they just didn’t process them quite like normal people did. Guiding Toby to the realization that his constant psychoanalysis and willingness to say nearly anything _might_ make Happy mad sometimes. Helping Happy to learn that while some couch time with the resident shrink doesn’t replace motorcycle therapy, and shouldn’t, it is necessary, and _will_ make her feel better.)

It was about preventing them from hurting others, and hence themselves by default. (Walter didn’t like the fact that his behaviour hurt people. He might not understand why, he might think that the people in question were being supremely irrational. That might well be true, but he didn’t _like_ causing pain. Quite the opposite, actually.)

It was about helping them grow, helping them to become _what they wanted to be_.

She could see (heck, even _Walter_ could see) what Happy and Toby wanted. (Perhaps Toby was more honest with his feelings, more honest with the whole notion, both to himself and to the others, but they both wanted it.) They both wanted a...well, not normal, but as-close-to-normal-as-they’d-ever-want-to-be, relationship. They just didn’t quite know how to get there. They were doing pretty well figuring it out on their own, actually, but she was there to give them a hand if they got stuck.

Walter couldn’t process emotions very well. _That didn’t make him emotionless._

 He _couldn’t understand_ them, beyond basic desires and cause-and-effect and the ridiculously obvious (concern over his sister, Happy and Toby, _he wants to hold your hand)_ so he panicked, and pushed them away.

His 197 IQ brain thought of a logical reason, or reasons, to do everything, so _of course_ Walter never made an emotional decision. (At least, a _purely_ emotional decision.)

_But he felt them._ And he wanted to learn. On some level, even if he didn’t like her pushing him much of the time, _he wanted to learn_ to process and deal with his feelings. (He had hired her, after all. To translate the real world- to translate all the ‘normal’ things like feelings for him, for the team.)

He wanted to be able to connect to people. (He’d told her, that she had to help Ralph, or he’d never connect. He wanted her boy to have what he never had- a connection to a parent. And how else would you explain the ex-girlfriends? Sure, having a girlfriend would probably increase his level of social acceptance. _But Walter was not a cold-hearted sociopath_. He was not just using those women as tools. Usefulness as an asset, a resource, played into his actions, of course, but she genuinely believes that he was reaching out and trying to find an elusive and much wanted connection.)

_And he is trying. He is really, really trying_. The painting, the Muellers, everything he did for Ralph, even building Scorpion. Holding them together all this time. That psychiatrist was right, in the end- Walter did have empathy. Quite a bit, actually. Sure, he was terrible at expressing it, and probably did not even realize (acknowledge) it, but he did.

And maybe most importantly (and oh, the irony) it was about pulling them out of an emotional maelstrom, a panic attack, so that genius intellect of theirs could work something out.

She’d sort-of known that with Ralph. She’d never recognized that he was a genius, but she knew that he panicked and shut down whenever he didn’t know an answer. She knew that they (especially Walter) did the same.

And she knew that if she could keep them calm, keep them emotionally stable, prevent them from losing themselves to panic, fear, anger, alcohol or gambling, they would almost always be able to sort themselves out, to fix any problem.

She’d seen that at the diner, and she’d done her best to help. ( _Getting rid of all the other pieces of chalk, yelling as much to Walter)_

She knew if she kept doing that, kept doing her job, _they could do anything_. They would accomplish whatever they wanted.

(Even Walter _would_ learn to process emotions. He just had to stop pushing them away first.)

And she would be there, every step of the way, lending a helping hand, serving as their guide.


	6. Right

Walter instantly didn’t like Drew.

That was _not_ illogical.

The man had left his son, and partner, and had not contacted them in _seven years._

That was a significant black mark against his name and rightly raised warning signs.

There were some illogical reasons why he didn’t like Drew ( _prior history with Paige, I don’t want to be replaced)_ , but he maintained that his dislike was not completely irrational.

Walter didn’t think that Ralph should meet Drew.

The probability of Ralph managing to connect to the baseballer was extremely low.

Ralph had suffered significant emotional trauma from his departure.

There was the potential for more emotional trauma if Drew betrayed him again. (Probability of that- high.)

A settled, stable environment was best for geniuses. (The real world was hard enough for them. A sanctuary, a safe place, was a necessity.) Drew was simply an excessive and unnecessary complication.

Walter acknowledged that Ralph needed a father figure. ( _Cabe filled a void.)_

But he didn’t need _Drew._

A genetic link did not a father make. ( _His own father, Cabe, were proof of that.)_

_He_ could be that figure for Ralph. (That was what he’d been doing, wasn’t it? He thinks he’s been doing a fairly good job.)

But he takes a step back. He promises not to interfere any more.

Paige was right.

They overstepped their bounds. What they did was inappropriate. He overstepped his bounds. What he did was inappropriate.

Ralph doesn’t need four geniuses running his life, deciding what’s best for him.

(They...they might not know best. At least, not about this stuff. They’re _naive._ Percy Tate proves that.)

Ralph really just needs Paige, a caring, loving, strong parent, who would do anything for her son.

(He didn’t turn out the way he is, Happy didn’t turn out the way she is, because they didn’t have a group of geniuses to mentor them. They turned out this way because they lacked a parent with whom they had a meaningful connection, who looked out for them and cared for them, like Paige did for Ralph.)

Besides, they don’t have the right. He doesn’t have the right. ( _Weren’t there in the delivery room, didn’t go to any PTAs, only just came into Ralph and Paige’s lives.)_

_(No matter how much he wants that right._ That thought scares him, he doesn’t quite know what it all means, but he knows he _wants that right. He wants the right to make decisions about Ralph’s life, to do what’s best for him, to be there for him, like a father should be.)_

But then again _(and this gives him a strange sense of satisfaction)_ , neither does Drew.

_Paige_ is the only one who has that right at the moment.

She has the right to make decisions about Ralph, and she alone.

So he takes a step back, promises not to interfere.

But Drew’s got as little a claim over Ralph as he does right now ( _perhaps even_ _less),_ and _watching_ isn’t interfering, so he’s still keeping his promise as he looks over at the so-called family reunion, taking a bite of a Peen Frean.

( _Cabe’s going to have to re-earn the right to be Walter’s father figure. Walter’s going to have to earn the right to be Ralph’s. It’s only fair the other man does too.)_

_(And watching the reunion, Cabe by his side, he thinks that Cabe’s doing far better than Drew is.)_


	7. Defining Fatherhood

Paige smiled to herself, shaking her head exasperatedly.

Ralph’s room was a complete and utter mess.

(11-year-old boys were always messy. Genius 11-year-old boys who did not have OCD were even more so.)

Sighing, she began to tidy up. She would definitely have to speak with Ralph when he got home. (Walter, Sylvester, Happy and Toby had arranged a “Geniuses’ Day Out” for Ralph, to celebrate his completion of elementary school. Tomorrow, they were having a cyclone dinner at the garage.)

It did make her a _little_ sad that her son was quite possibly closer to Sylvester, Happy and Toby, and _definitely_ closer to Walter than he was to her.

But she didn’t really mind. They loved him so much. He was so happy with them, and he’d grown so much since they’d met, over two years ago. And he _belonged_ with them, he really did. And that was all she ever wanted for him.

(And when he had a nightmare, or was overwhelmed by his emotions, he still ran to her. He still liked to paint her nails. He still liked having her run her fingers through his hair.)

Ralph had left a notebook open on his bed, the pages slightly folded and askew. Putting down a newly-folded pair of pants, she walked over, and picked it up, intending to close it properly.

But the words written on the page caught her eye. (That was unusual- she rarely understood anything that Ralph wrote about.)

Scrawled across the top of the page in his horrible, cockroaches-dancing-across-the-page, genius-typical handwriting (which she had a _lot_ of practice deciphering) was the statement _Walter is my father._

Below that, a table, with two columns, headed _Supporting_ and _Opposing._

Under the _Opposing_ column:

  1. _No genetic contribution_
  2. _No contribution of surname_
  3. _Drew Baker_
  4. _Lack of formalized relationship between Walter and Mom- note: fairly low significance in current society and time period must be considered as mitigating factor for importance of this article of evidence_
  5. _Uncertain about extent to which said relationship would be reciprocated- note: must obtain more data- must individual denoted Individual A’s father reciprocate relationship and denote Individual A ‘son’ in order for relationship to be valid?_



Under the _Supporting_ column:

  1. _Fulfils typical role (older male mentor) accorded to father_
  2. _Romantic relationship between Mom and Walter exists- typical relationship between mother and father_
  3. _Cabe and Walter relationship- precedent_
  4. _Data obtained from popular culture, schooling- suggests formalized relationship between mother and father not necessary condition_
  5. _Lack of any other individual who possibly satisfies criteria_



And the last point in that column:

  1. _Own emotional desires. Very confusing. Unsure if legitimate evidence._



Paige blinked, trying to read through the tears that were filling her eyes.

_Oh, Ralph._

It was oh-so-normal, for a boy his age, to begin to move further from his mother and establish a stronger father-son bond.

But Drew was...well, not around. Again. Ralph never connected with him well anyway.

Add Walter into the mix...

And so her poor boy was utterly confused.

He had a biological father who was a father in _only_ that sense. He had Walter, who was really his father in all but biology and name...

A soft smile came to her face as she imagined how _her_ genius would react if her (or should it be _their?)_ son called him _Dad._

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she took one last glance at Ralph’s table, and closed the notebook, placing it neatly on his desk.

She definitely had to speak to him when he got back. And not just about the mess in his room.

* * *

‘Ralph, what was our deal about your room?’

Fiddling with a pencil, her son replied.

‘I can keep all of my safe-for-home projects in my room, on the condition that I keep it reasonably tidy.’

‘And when was the last time you cleaned your room?’

‘Increased length of time elapsed since last cleaning does not necessarily correlate with increased levels of mess...’

Her son took one look at the expression on her face, paused, and then continued.

‘...But I will endeavour to keep it cleaner in future, promise.’

He fell silent, before his face lit up with realization.

‘I’m sorry, Mom.’ He beamed. ‘I remembered to apologize this time!’

Paige smiled.

‘Good job, Ralph!’

She reached over, and began running her fingers through his hair. (He found that particularly soothing for some reason.)

‘Ralph, you left your blue A4 notebook open on your pillow.’

An almost-fearful, nervous look appeared on his face.

‘Now, you know that I don’t usually look through your things, because your privacy is important, but the particular page it was opened to caught my interest...’

She felt Ralph tense. He was overwhelmed by the emotions he was feeling at that moment, struggling to process them all.

‘Don’t tell Walter. You can’t tell Walter.’

Paige was silent for a moment, letting Ralph sort through his feelings. She continued running her fingers through his hair.

‘Why not?’

Ralph stared up at her. He didn’t know what to say. She could see it in his eyes ( _What if he doesn’t want to be my father? What will happen to our relationship if he doesn’t? What would I do without him?),_ but he couldn’t verbalize it, or explain it.

‘Ralph, I’m an authoritative source when it comes to emotional stuff, interpersonal stuff, right?’

Her son nodded emphatically.

‘Okay, so you trust me to be correct on these matters, right?’

He nodded firmly again.

Paige smiled, and bent down to whisper in his ear.

‘Supporting, Point 6 is the most legitimate evidence of all.’

A slow grin broke across his face.

* * *

The doorbell rang.

Ralph immediately got up from the couch, and walked over to the door, a grin on his face, straightening his tie as he did so. (He had taken to dressing like Walter, which was absolutely adorable.)

Paige, having heard the doorbell, walked out of the kitchen. She had to see this.

Ralph opened the door, and beamed up at Walter.

He took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders.

‘Hi...Dad.’

Walter froze. Paige could practically see the cogs turning in his head, as he shifted through the flood of emotions.

Then, actions a little jerky, awkward ( _unsure of what the correct response was)_ he reached out and hugged Ralph.

‘Hi...son.’

The 11-year-old froze for a moment too, before reaching out equally shaky arms to hug Walter back.

Paige simply stood there, blinking back tears, as she observed her boyfriend and her...no, _their_ son.


	8. Little Things

Happy likes to sleep with a wrench under her pillow. Yeah, it’s weird, but she doesn’t quite feel _right_ without it there.

The wrench is useful for self-defence. It’s also handy for those nights when she can’t sleep- she doesn’t have to rummage around her toolbox for it if she wants to work on a project.

It’s comforting to have it there, too, because _tools don’t let you down._

Ultimately, it’s pretty irrational, but it feels _right._

Toby makes jokes about it, going on about phallic symbols and her _love_ for machines. Happy generally threatens him with violence, which only leads to further psychoanalysis.

Bottom line, he thinks it’s weird.

He gets used to the whole wrench-in-the-bed thing eventually. (But he still insists it stays on her side.)

* * *

Toby feels naked without the hat.

The hat is a useful safety blanket of sorts- he can always play around with it; catch some attention by doing a couple of cool tricks. Helps him to divert attention away from where he doesn’t want it, and put it somewhere he does.

The hat makes it marginally harder to read him- casts a shadow, obscures some regions that produce micro-expressions.

(It’s useful at the poker table. Don’t tell Happy.)

But mostly, the hat makes him _Toby._ It’s part of his signature look. It’s part of his identity.

So no hat leads to identity issues.

And of course he’s got _some expertise (just a little bit)_ in regards to the human psyche, and identity issues are like Walter trying to pretend to like art.

(Scary and disturbing.)

* * *

Sylvester particularly likes the feeling of chalk under his fingers.

There are many benefits to using chalk and a blackboard, instead of a whiteboard and markers.

If he forgets to cap a whiteboard marker (which would happen often), it would dry out, which would be wasteful. Chalk, on the other hand, has no such issues.

Chalk is far more economical, producing approximately 900% (varying by brand of chalk, colour of chalk, colour of markers, brand of markers, humidity of room, quality of blackboard or whiteboard etc.) more words per dollar than whiteboard markers.

Chalk is far less odorous than whiteboard markers, a blessing for him. (He is very sensitive to odour.)

Chalk, while its use leads to dust building up on his clothing, at least does not _stain_ like whiteboard markers.

There is also no chance of absorbing isopropanol or any of the other potentially harmful chemicals in whiteboard markers through his skin.

Of course, a whiteboard would produce less noise (fingernails on a blackboard- nasty), but there’s still something about having a stick of chalk in his hands...

* * *

Walter doesn’t like shirts without buttons.

He admits that this is fairly illogical.

There are definitely logical reasons for why he should prefer shirts with buttons.

Shirts with buttons are typically plain, without eye-catching patterns or logos. (He outgrew wearing spaceship adorned garments _years_ ago.)

Shirts with buttons are considered socially acceptable garments in almost all situations. That is, they can be worn to go grocery shopping, and to do a job for the Governor. Therefore, they are efficient- fewer clothing changes are required, fewer garments need to be purchased.

Shirts with buttons can be worn multiple ways and are easily adjusted for comfort. Most of them have long sleeves, but are made of thin material- therefore, they are suitable for a wide range of climates- the sleeves can be rolled up and they are not too thick to be uncomfortable in heat. Collars, on shirts with buttons, can be loosened and tightened accordingly.

Still, this preference of his is irrational.

For example, none of these reasons really justify the fact that all of his pyjama shirts have buttons.

He is also sufficiently aware of his own preferences, desires, feelings, to know that for some _inexplicable_ reason, he just likes shirts with buttons.

(He comes up with more hypotheses in an attempt to explain this over the years. None ever seem satisfactory. He eventually decides that perhaps this is one phenomenon that has no explanation.)

* * *

Cabe _could_ get a new photo- one without a corner torn off, one without the crinkles.

He does have multiple copies, and there is such a thing as reprints. (God, he sounds like Walter. He’s spending far too much time with that kid. And God, he’s getting old, because he’s not even a kid anymore...)

But he likes this one better.

It’s lived in. It’s been everywhere with him.

It reminds him how long it’s been, and thus it reminds him to never forget.

(Not that he needs the reminder.)

* * *

Paige loves the smell of nail polish.

The rest of the cyclone doesn’t get it.

_(Formaldehyde, phthalates, toluene, cancer, miscarriage, preterm birth, birth defects, low birth weight...)_

(She used nail polish when she was pregnant with Ralph. He turned out fine. Of course that’s a very small sample, but still.)

Regardless, she loves the smell of nail polish.

Not because it’s a _nice_ smell, because it isn’t.

But because of all those times when Ralph sat with her, holding her hand, patiently, carefully painting her nails.

Those were, and will probably always be, special times for the two of them.

(And she will be forever grateful to Walter for translating the true meaning of those moments for her.)


	9. Blame it on the Brussels Sprouts

Walter bent over, took the last item (Brussels sprouts) out of the shopping trolley, and placed them on the conveyer belt.

 

Ralph looked at the sprouts, and made a face. (Brussels sprouts were not his favourite, to say the least.)

 

Cabe looked down at the 10-year-old and chuckled.

 

‘Sorry, kid, but your Mom insisted.’

 

Walter smiled at the boy.

 

‘I don’t like them either, but if we returned without them, the outcome would be unfavourable.’

 

Ralph sighed and nodded.

 

‘Eating Brussels sprouts is slightly less unfavourable than Mom angry. But only slightly.’

 

The cashier, a woman of about 35, smiled at the trio as Walter keyed in his PIN to pay.

 

‘Grandfather-father-son shopping trip?’

All three froze.

Identical looks of bemusement ( _what a ridiculous notion...Doesn’t she know anything about the dominance of the brown eyes allele? Or the curly hair allele?)_ appeared on the faces of the two geniuses.

Cabe simply rolled his eyes, picked up the groceries, and started walking towards the van, knowing that the other two would follow.

As they drove back to the garage, Walter and Ralph discussed something about genetics and the probability of spontaneous mutations causing specific changes in phenotype. (At least, that’s what Cabe thought they were talking about.)

He snorted.

‘She thought we were related. She thought we _were related._ ’ He laughed in disbelief. ‘Thought I’d never see anything weirder than an Irish kid who hacked NASA. And the kid keeps proving me wrong without even trying.’


	10. Family Portrait

Megan grinned at her brother, placing a hand gently on his knee.

 ‘Enough about me, Walter. How are _you?’_

Walter resisted the urge to just say _I’m fine._ He smiled. ‘I’m...I’m well. I’m happy.’

She nodded, grin broadening.

‘Good! And how is Scorpion? How are Happy, and Sylvester, and Toby? And how are Ralph and Paige? And Cabe?’

Walter paused for a moment.

‘I...I’m fairly certain they’re well and happy too. There’s no way I can be completely certain about their emotional states, I’m not them.’

Megan laughed softly. Her genius of a brother would never change.

Walter fell silent for a moment, before his face lit up.

‘Actually, we took a team photo yesterday. Would you like to see it?’

She raised an eyebrow. ( _You have to ask?)_

‘Oh, right. I don’t need to ask, you always want to know what’s happening in my life.’

He took out his phone, and pulled up the picture.

Sylvester stood on the left, grinning in his Super Fun Guy T-shirt.

Cabe was on the right, a slight smile on his normally-stern face.

Standing on chairs at the back were Happy and Toby, smiling.

And in front of them, Walter, Paige and Ralph, the two adults on either side of the beaming boy genius, Walter’s hand on his left shoulder and Paige’s on his right.

It was a nice photo, but something was a bit off.

Megan flicked her thumb over the screen, and the photo changed.

Sylvester stood on the left, fretting over a doubtlessly-tiny stain on his shirt.

Cabe was on the right, rolling his eyes, an exasperated look on his face.

Standing on chairs at the back were Happy and Toby. Toby’s arm was halfway around her waist, her elbow halfway on its way to his stomach. At the same time, Happy appeared to be trying to reason with Sylvester.

And in front of them, Walter, Paige and Ralph. The two adults were gazing at one another, looking like a pair of slightly-exasperated parents, and the boy genius was looking up at them, an almost-knowing smile on his face.

Megan laughed, facing lighting up. _This_ was more like it.

‘It’s a lovely portrait of your family, Walter.’

Her brother glanced down at the photo, before looking earnestly at her.

‘Not quite. You’re not in it.’

Megan smiled, taking her brother’s hand, tears prickling in her eyes. Her low EQ genius brother sometimes sounded like he had an EQ ten times higher. ( _When he looked you in the eye and said such sweet words as if they’re objective fact. And maybe they are, to him, which is why they come so easily, so smoothly to him- so unusual for him in terms of interpersonal relationships_.)

‘Maybe we can take another one, then. I’d love to meet your family, Walter.’

‘Okay.’ He nodded. ‘Okay.’

(And next time he visits, he brings the whole cyclone along. The nurses complain about too many visitors, but Megan doesn’t even notice. She’s too busy crying tears of joy- her brother, her awkward genius brother who never belonged anywhere- finally _belongs_ and _has a family._ She’s too busy asking Paige about the status of Happy and Toby’s relationship, and watching her brother interact with Ralph- it’s a miracle he’s such a good father, considering his lack of a relationship with theirs. She’s too busy cataloguing every little glance her brother gives Paige, and every one the woman gives him back, and too busy not missing the fond little smile on Cabe’s face as he watches the whole scene.)


	11. The Necessity of Freudian Displacement

Walter knows that his behaviour is ridiculous. (Street racing, really, Walter?)

(That _is_ essentially the point. Freudian displacement.)

But _why?_

Well, engaging in Freudian displacement is fairly standard procedure for him.

He has a low EQ.

He cannot deal with or process his emotions adequately. But he still has them.

That is a problem that he needs to rectify.

Sometimes, he can process them almost normally. Then, there is no problem.

Sometimes, he cannot. Then, there is a process he must implement.

First, he sits down (metaphorically speaking), concentrates, and works on processing them. A fairly significant portion of the time (estimation- 75%, having increased since Paige entered his life) he is able to work it out, though he often requires Paige, or sometimes Toby, to give him a hint or two.

Then, if that fails, he suppresses and locks away the emotions.

If that is not possible- Freudian displacement.

And why _this_ instant in particular?

He is _not happy_ with the whole Drew Incident. (Yes, that is what he is calling it, at least in his own mind. More efficient way of denoting a very complicated situation.)

He realizes now, that despite his original misgivings, this is really more about his own emotional issues rather than anything to do with the man himself.

_Jealousy. Irrational levels of anger- why did you abandon them? Do you know what that did to Ralph? To Paige? (How do I know that? How do I understand that? Why does this matter so much to me?)_

_A whole heap of other things that he doesn’t quite understand, can’t quite process._

_Ralph’s rare smile._

_Paige’s laugh, the way her eyes light up when her son makes physical contact with her, or beams, or laughs...or when he tells her a joke...or gives her a little hint on how to connect with her son..._

_The feeling of Ralph’s hand in his._

_The look of pride, happiness on Paige’s face when he does something that is socially acceptable and signifies an improvement in his emotional processing and sensitivity._

_Watching Ralph and Paige interact with one another, her running her fingers through his hair. The strange accompanying feeling of peace, of rightness._

_Paige’s hands on his person. The strange sensations that gives him._

What is _going on_ with him?

He wants Drew _gone_. He knows that. He wants things back the way they were, _before_ he showed up.

But still, _he helps him_. Helps him try and connect with Ralph. ( _Completely_ against his desires.)

Tells him to buy a program at the game. Sets up the whole baseball program. Heck, even tells Ralph to tell...his father...what a good job he’s doing.

_Why?_

Ralph wants to connect to his father. He wants to fit in with him, wants to belong. (Hence the algebra test.)

Walter knows _exactly_ how he feels. He went through that exact process when he was Ralph’s age.

Walter knows that Ralph doesn’t _need_ Drew as a father figure. ( _He_ can fill that void, and he can do it better. He is fairly certain that Paige is aware of that. That makes him irrationally satisfied.)

But Ralph _wants_ a connection to his father.

He _wants_ it.

Walter was never able to achieve it.

With his help, Ralph may well be able to.

He might be spared much of the pain Walter went through, when he realized he’d _never_ connect with his own dad.

He might have a chance to have those happy moments, those Kodak moments, those instants of perfect familial joy that he saw on TV and in movies. ( _but had never really experienced himself_ )

He _can’t_ deny him that.

Not when it hurts him to see the boy genius upset.

Not when it hurts him to see Paige upset as a result.

But at the same time, he can’t allow Ralph to hide and conceal his genius, to deny who he really is, either, in an attempt to connect with Drew.

Not when Ralph lights up when they talk probabilities and algorithms and potentialities and interesting geometric patterns.

Not when it makes him feel a little warmer on the inside when he does that. Not when that makes him want to grin.

Not when it makes him feel _even warmer_ on the inside when he sees Paige beam as a result. Not when the cumulative effect of her happiness and Ralph’s makes him want to _do a happy dance,_ as bizarre and pointless that would be.

 Walter is one of the very few people in the world who can solve this problem. He is one of the very few people in the world who can give Ralph a fighting chance to connect with his dad, _and_ help him to accept and embrace his genius at the same time.

So he promises Paige _he will help._

For Ralph’s sake.

(And for her sake. Even if that scares him a little because of _what he thinks that could mean.)_

(And for his sake. Even if that’s terribly selfish of him.)

(And maybe, just maybe- a little bit for Drew’s sake too. Because, now, he sees the man does seem to be genuinely trying. He is genuinely trying to connect to his son, trying to reach out and have a family. He is here for that reason. Even if his track record is terrible, he’s trying now.

Walter can’t judge a man for only trying now. Walter can’t judge a man who is desperately trying to reach out, trying to forge a connection, trying to forge a family.

Not when he is also that man.)

* * *

All _this_ is confusing him. And upsetting him. And he _really_ doesn’t want to think about it.

(Even though it is completely consuming his thoughts.)

So, he still needs a distraction.

He may have to re-evaluate his choice of street racing.

(But he needs to do it one more time. It’s the only way to get out of the mess he’s in.)

(Besides, it’s _meditative._ )

He reaches for the keys.


	12. Single Lady

Peyton’s cute.

He appreciates machines.

He’s a musician.

(Hey, genius or not, she’s still a woman. Musicians are _sexy._ )

He’s smart.

He’s respectful.

He doesn’t push her buttons and make her want to throw things.

He doesn’t irk her and try and get under her skin and into her head.

He doesn’t know her history, hasn’t seen her at her worst. ( _And she doesn’t plan on letting him.)_

Thus, he won’t push her about her dad, about her anger issues, about letting people in.

_(And thus, she won’t have to let him in. Let him see everything about her.)_

He’s cute, he’s fun, and she has a good time with him.

It’s not as if she’s dating Toby. Not as it that shrink’s got any sort of claim on her. Not if she’s committed to him.

She’s a single girl. She can date anyone she wants.

And she can, but then _why?_

Then why does she miss the damn crazy shrink’s inappropriate comments when they’re out at the rally?

Then why does something twist in her gut when Toby literally starts _moping?_

Why does that _look_ in his eyes when she comes back really late that night, and he’s waited up for her ( _and she essentially ignores him)_ , haunt her?


	13. Package Deal

Walter is very confused.

He has been doing research on enacting relationships of a romantic nature with single mothers.

The presentation he is preparing to give Paige is going fairly well ( _considering how difficult such a presentation is)_ , but there is one concept that is thoroughly confusing him. _(And muddling up his feelings, which are confusing enough for him in the first place)_

The concept of the ‘package deal’.

A package deal is a set of proposals or terms offered or agreed as a whole.

In this context, it refers to the idea that if one wishes to enter into a romantic relationship with a single mother, one must also accept her offspring and the fact that said mother will frequently prioritize the offspring over one.

That itself is not an issue for Walter.

(His ability to accept, and in fact, dare he say, embrace, that fact is listed in the supporting section of his pros and cons list regarding commencing a romantic relationship between the two of them.)

Of course he wants _both_ Paige and Ralph in his life.

_Ideally_ , he would like both of them in his life.

They are very important to him. He...he _cares about them...he cares about them very, very much._

He wants to be Ralph’s father figure, to be his mentor, to look out for him and help him. ( _To give him what he never had, to give him everything he’d ever wanted as a child, and more, if he could.)_

He wants Paige by his side, he really does, because she makes him _better,_ because she makes him want to _try,_ because he really enjoys seeing her happy, because somehow, miraculously, he’s managed to _connect_ to her, because she accepts and embraces his little family of misfits, and because of all of these other reasons that he doesn’t know how to verbalize or explain, because of these things that he can’t quite understand but knows he feels anyway.

But they’re not a package deal, not really.

They come fairly separately, actually.

If Paige did not reciprocate his feelings, he would still be there for Ralph. At least, if she let him, he would be.

Similarly, if Ralph did not want him to be there for him, at some point in the future (which he knows is highly improbable), that does not mean that he would not still desire a relationship with Paige.

_They are both important to him._

Those ridiculous morality questions, the ones that ask _if both of them were in danger, and you could only save one, who would you choose?,_ he has no idea how to respond to.

He has a 197 IQ, but he has no idea. He knows he’d be frozen, because he’d have no idea what to do.

It’s the same with the rest of his cyclone. If he could only save one of them, one of Paige, Ralph, Megan, Sylvester, Toby, Happy and... if he is honest with himself, Cabe, he’d have no idea who he’d pick.

They are _all important to him._

Important in different ways, sure, but essentially equally important.

They are his cyclone. His family.

(He _belongs_ with them.)

So Walter will do anything in his power to make sure he _never_ has to make that choice.

_Anything._

* * *

The whole package deal notion still confuses him.

However, perhaps it could be said that in some ways, he _also_ comes as part of a package deal.

Paige has Ralph.

He has Team Scorpion.

(Maybe the relationships between them are changing, or have changed already.)

(But they’re still a cyclone, first and foremost.)


	14. Snapshots

Photographs capture a moment, an instant, in time.

(They don’t, however, capture the story behind that moment in time.)

* * *

_Happy stood in a silky black dress, looking uncomfortable. A grinning Paige stood beside her, taking a photo of their reflections in the dressing room mirror._

‘Come on, Happy, it’ll be fun!’

The mechanical prodigy scoffed.

‘Yeah, right.’

Paige put a hand on her shoulder.

‘You don’t have to like it, but you’re going to need a dress to wear for the Governor’s gala. And unless you have one...’

The petite woman sighed.

‘Fine. But make it as quick and painless as possible, okay?’

(Paige complies. But Happy decides that shopping isn’t _too_ bad when she walks into the Governor’s gala, feeling more beautiful than she’s ever felt before- she might be a genius, but she’s also a woman- and she decides it might actually be alright every once in a while when a certain behaviourist can’t take his eyes off her, even more than usual.)

* * *

_Walter sat in a chair, a shiner adorning his left eye. Paige stood by his side, gently tending to his swollen eye._

‘You shouldn’t have done that, Walter.’

The genius tried to shrug, but winced.

The woman immediately noticed.

‘Walter, did he get you in the shoulder too?’

‘Just a glancing blow, don’t worry about it.’

Paige finished dabbing witch hazel salve on his eye, and threw her hands in the air.

‘Don’t worry about it? You are an idiot-‘

‘I have an IQ of 197. That’s essentially the opposite of-‘

‘- what were you thinking, punching that guy? I know Cabe’s taught you a few things-‘

‘- He was going for you. Scorpions are very protective of their cyclone.’

Paige took a deep breath, sighed and smiled. Her fingers touched his cheek, just below his bruised eye, gently.

‘Thank you, Walter. But be more careful next time!’

‘It’s very difficult to be careful in such a scenario, Paige...’

She put down the tub of witch hazel salve.

‘Now, I need to have a look at that shoulder. Get that shirt off now.’

Walter blushed.

Paige didn’t notice, having bustled off to the kitchen to grab an icepack from the freezer.

Toby waggled his eyebrows.

‘ _Someone’s_ not wasting any time.’

Walter glared at him.

‘Toby...’

‘Hey, you’re enjoying her ministrations. Your pupils-‘

‘Toby!’

Happy’s voice rung out warningly from across the garage.

The behaviourist immediately shut up, and glanced over at Walter, who was obediently removing his shirt.

He shook his head.

‘Man, we are _so_ whipped.’

He glanced over at Happy, then at Walter, who was thanking Paige as she handed him an icepack.

‘ _And_ we love it.’

* * *

_Happy was wearing Toby’s hat, dancing out of his reach. The behaviourist stood behind her, hands gesturing wildly._

‘I don’t have your favourite wrench, I swear! Now will you give me back my hat?’

‘I know you don’t _have_ my wrench with you, but I _know_ you took it. Give it back to me, and I’ll give you back your hat. It’s a simple, fair exchange.’

Toby adopted a hurt expression.

‘You think I would take your wrench? Knowing how much it means to you? It wounds me to hear that you think so low of me!’

Happy rolled her eyes.

‘It’s gone, and I don’t lose tools. Therefore, someone took it. Sly wouldn’t take it, Walt wouldn’t take it, Paige wouldn’t, Cabe wouldn’t, Ralph certainly wouldn’t, so that leaves you. Logical process of elimination.’

‘Actually, kleptomania is associated with anxiety so-‘

Toby suddenly felt a significant amount of pressure where no man likes to have a significant amount of pressure.

He looked downwards, and found the source of the pressure to be Happy’s knee.

‘Tell me where my wrench is, Curtis.’

‘Woah, you drive a hard bargain...’ The pressure increased slightly. ‘Alright, alright, it’s in Cabe Junior’s cage.’

The female genius stalked off to retrieve it.

‘You know, Happy, if you wanted to touch me there, you could have just asked!’

* * *

_Sylvester and Ralph sat in a corner of the garage, intent on a Super Fun Guy comic._

‘He’s awesome, isn’t he?’

Ralph nodded emphatically.

Sylvester grinned at the boy.

‘You know, if we can get your mum to drive us to the comic book store, we can get the next issue right away...’

Ralph beamed and immediately ran off to find Paige.

* * *

_Paige sat in front of a chessboard, looking terribly befuddled as Walter reached over her shoulder to move a king and a rook. A smiling Ralph and grinning Sylvester looked on._

‘Now, this is called castling-‘

Paige stared at Walter, confused.

‘Wait, I thought you could only move one piece at a time?’

Sylvester nodded.

‘Normally, yes, but castling is the only exception to that rule.’

‘Okay...so you can only move one piece at a time, except when castling-‘

‘-And it can only be done if you’ve never moved the king, the rook has never moved, and the squares between the king and the rook are unoccupied...’

Walter trailed off, glancing pointedly at Ralph, who immediately continued.

‘...and the king is not in check and doesn’t move over or end up on a square in which it would be in check.’

Paige groaned, and glanced at the board in front of her, then back up at the three geniuses.

‘I’m never going to remember that. Ralph, how in the world did you learn how to play this game?’

Sylvester adjusted his glasses.

‘Well, considering your lack of knowledge about chess, and Ralph’s IQ, the most likely explanation is that he picked it up from observation.’

‘Well, I think I’m just going to observe you guys playing, because there’s no way I’m ever going to get this game!’

* * *

_Ralph and Walter were completely covered in paint, laughing._

‘What _have_ you two been doing?’

Both geniuses turned around, slowly, looking a little sheepish.

‘Oh, hi, Paige.’

‘Hi, Mom!’

‘We didn’t expect you to get back so quickly...’

‘We’re working on my art assignment!’

Paige looked sceptically at the two.

‘Right. I wasn’t aware you were supposed to be emulating Jackson Pollock.’

‘Well, I decided since this whole art assignment is completely stupid, I would do something completely absurd to highlight its ridiculousness-‘

‘-So Ralph decided to _construct a masterpiece inspired by the work of the great Jackson Pollock-‘_

‘But then we got a little distracted-‘

‘-We started testing the spatter patterns produced by different brands of paint travelling at different velocities and impacting various surfaces-‘

‘-It’s really cool, Mom!’

Paige smiled. ‘I’m sure it is, Ralph. But right now, those clothes look like they need a wash, and you look like you need a shower.’ She glanced at Walter. ‘ _Both_ of you.’

* * *

_A smug looking Toby, feet up on his desk, sat opposite a blushing, 16-year-old Ralph, who was wearing a dress shirt and tie._

‘So, what’s her name?’

The boy genius ( _well, barely a boy anymore_ ) looked up at the behaviourist.

‘Who?’

‘The girl you’re crushing on!’

A blush began to creep up Ralph’s cheeks.

‘I have...no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have a crush on some girl...’

Toby raised an eyebrow.

‘You’re talking to a world-class, genius behaviourist here, Ralph-man. You’ve just given yourself away about ten times in the last ten minutes alone.’ Toby leaned a little closer and dropped his voice. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell your mom or dad. And just a tip- don’t ask your dad for girl advice. He’s a _real sly fox,_ as I’m sure you know. Come to me.’

Happy walked past.

‘Trust me, Ralph, you’d be better off asking Walt.’

Toby threw his hands up in the air.

‘Oh, come on, Happy! I got you, didn’t I?’

She rolled her eyes, but a smile adorned her face.

‘And you make me wonder how every single day.’


	15. Just a Typical Day

Paige glanced over at Cabe Junior’s cage, checking to make sure that there was adequate food and water. (The geniuses had a tendency to accidentally forget to check these things.)

The mouse was nowhere to be seen.

Brow furrowing, she took a closer look.

Still no Cabe Junior.

She opened the cage’s lid, sifting through the bedding.

No Cabe Junior.

Frowning, she walked downstairs.

‘Has anyone seen Cabe Junior?’

Toby glanced up from his books.

‘Nope.’

Happy shook her head, not looking up from her latest project.

‘Walter?’

Walter glanced briefly away from his computer screen.

‘He should be in his cage.’

‘He’s not.’

Walter’s brow furrowed slightly.

‘I put him back after I finished last night...and I left the cage open for a couple of minutes while I was noting down a new idea...’ He rubbed his forehead with his left hand. ‘I have an IQ of 197, and I can’t even remember to shut a door...’

‘Actually, Walter, there’s a strong correlation between-‘

A quick glare from Happy and a significant look from Paige immediately shut Toby up.

Sylvester looked worried.

‘He’s escaped, hasn’t he? Oh, poor Cabe Junior...’ He looked panic-stricken. ‘Mice carry hantavirus, which has a fifty-two percent mortality rate if it gets into your lungs...’

‘Sly, Cabe Junior is a laboratory mouse, kept in sterile conditions. The probability of him carrying hantavirus is exceedingly small...’

Sylvester grabbed a bottle of hand sanitizer, and squeezed a liberal amount onto his hands.

‘We have to find him immediately! Then we’re going to have to sterilize-‘

Paige walked over to him, laying a hand gently on his shoulder as he hyperventilated.

‘Sylvester, we’ll find Cabe Junior. Then we’ll make sure we clean up any droppings. It’s going to be fine.’  She glanced over at Toby. ‘Where should we start looking?’

The behaviourist threw his hands up in the air.

‘Sure, just because I know human psychology, I automatically know where the runaway mouse is going to be!’

Walter nodded. ‘Actually, Paige has a point. Mice prefer certain habitats, so we should start by searching those habitats. Check all the dark corners, and keep an eye out for any frayed or gnawed-on cables.’ He glanced pointedly at all of their electronics.

* * *

_Three hours later_

* * *

 

‘Gotcha!’

Toby lifted Cabe Junior out of one of Happy’s motorcycle exhaust pipes by the base of his tail.

Sylvester ran up to him.

‘Thank goodness you’re safe, Cabe Junior!’ He started spraying disinfectant all over Happy’s workshop. ‘Now, to make sure that there are no rodent-transmitted viruses or bacteria present...’

* * *

That night, as he put Cabe Junior back in his cage after finishing his experiment for the day, Walter smiled as he noticed the new addition to the cage.

In large red letters, in Paige’s handwriting:

_Remember to shut the door immediately, Geranium Nickel Uranium Sulfur!_


	16. Advice

Everyone keeps trying to give him (unsolicited) advice about Paige. Was he really _that_ obvious?

(Now he thinks he knows how she felt when they wouldn’t stop giving her un-asked-for advice about the whole Drew incident.)

* * *

Sylvester comes up to him one morning, as he’s sitting down to breakfast.

The human calculator grins at him.

‘Hey, Walter, about Paige- I’ve run all of the possible outcomes, Walter, and a positive outcome is a near certainty.’

Walter just stares at him.

‘Umm...right. Err...thanks, Sly.’

_Note to self: Need to practice unaffected face in mirror more._

* * *

 One evening, after Paige has left, taking Ralph with her, Toby plops himself down on Walter’s desk.

‘You, my man, have got it bad.’

Walter simply looks impassively at him. ( _Hopefully his practice is paying off.)_

Toby rolls his eyes.

‘That’s not going to work on me, Walt. I can see the truth. For example-‘

‘I don’t need your advice, Toby.’

The behaviourist shoots him a pointed look.

‘Really? You see, I thought I was the one more qualified on these matters, since I’ve actually maintained a relationship longer than three months-‘

Walter’s face hardens.

‘Correction: I don’t _want_ your advice.’

And he stands, heading upstairs to doubtlessly keep experimenting on Cabe Junior.

Toby is left with his own thoughts.

_Damn it...I seriously need a brain-to-mouth filter._

* * *

Happy drops a wrench on the dining table.

Wordlessly, Walter picks it up and hands it back to her.

‘No tools or experiments on the table.’

Happy rolls her eyes, stowing the wrench in her belt.

‘Paige’s house rules?’

_(Three square meals a day, at least four servings of vegetables per day, minimum 35 hours of sleep per week...)_

‘Yes.’

She takes a seat opposite her fellow genius.

‘Walt, your mutual pining is driving us all crazy.’

He immediately looks up, wary.

‘Happy-‘

She crosses her arms.

‘Hey, listen to me, Walt _. Do something_ about it. She and Ralph are two of the best things that have ever happened to you. _Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth_.’

Walter takes a deep breath, and nods.

Happy’s right. (Not that he’s going to say it out loud, but he’ll make sure she knows. They’ve developed a little bit of a system over the years.)

He _knows._ He’s _trying._ He doesn’t quite know what to do, and he’s so _scared_ of screwing it all up (which is a new feeling, actually), but he’s _trying._

So he smiles at Happy, before giving her a teasing smirk, nodding in the direction of Toby’s desk.

‘Are you going to take your own advice?’

Happy sighs, and stares at the behaviourist’s desk, a slight smile growing on her face as she does.

‘I should. I really should.’

* * *

Cabe comes up to him after they wrap up a case, looking a little shaken. He nearly lost one of his agents today. Nearly.

 ‘I said I’d look out for you, Walter, and that’s what I’m doing now. Do something about her. _Don’t_ waste a day with those who are important to you. _You will regret it._

The older man has such a look in his eyes, such a dark, brooding sort of look, that Walter simply nods obediently.

* * *

Ralph grins up at Walter as they finish some calculations for their latest project.

They both glance over at Paige, who is cooking dinner in the kitchen, having enlisted Sylvester, Happy and Toby. (Walter and Ralph got out of it by promising to do the dishes later.)

‘I don’t remember Mom being so happy. Ever.’

Walter smiles down at the boy genius.

‘She deserves to be happy. She really does.’

Ralph nods sagely, and gives Walter a significant look.

‘She _deserves_ to be happy. And you _will_ make her happy.’

(He doesn’t say it as if it’s a threat. He says it as if it’s _fact._ And that makes Walter’s smile broaden.)

* * *

Despite the...well...encouragement, it still takes Walter quite a while to do something about it.

(Longer than it does for Happy to take her own advice, anyway.)

But, as he and Paige will remark on over the years, it was worth the wait.


	17. Waiting

She’s waiting for him to make the first move.

She’s waiting for him to start the shift from what they are _now_ ( _more than friends, not quite a couple_ ), to make the shift from what they’re doing now ( _little touches,_ _occasional kisses on the cheek, significant looks)_ to what she is near-certain ( _she’s a little insecure, alright? Being abandoned for a blonde in Tahoe will do that to you)_ they both want.

Paige knows perfectly well that she is a little ( _or maybe a lot)_ in love with one Walter O’Brien.

(How could she _not_ be?)

But she’s not going to make the first move.

No, she’s not that traditional.

It’s just...she _can’t_ mess this up. _They_ can’t mess this up.

There’s too much at stake.

If they start dating, and it all ends badly, Ralph would be terribly hurt. The cyclone would never be the same. Scorpion’s ability to function as a business, as a team, would fall dramatically.

Deep inside, Paige knows that’s pretty unlikely.

(They’ve made it this far. They’ve seen one another at their best, and at their worst, and embraced it. They’ve dealt with big issues between the two of them- Drew- and been through life-or-death situations.)

That doesn’t stop her from feeling a little hesitant, a little scared to take the plunge.

Besides, she knows if they’re going to have a _proper_ relationship, Walter’s going to have to be the one to make the first move.

(It won’t be possible if he doesn’t think it’s the right course of action. It won’t be possible unless he is confident that it’s going to work out. He has his doubts over relationships, she knows that, and they’re greater than hers.)

So she’s waiting.

* * *

Walter stares down at the list in front of him.

(It’s the most difficult list he’s written in his life. It’s taken him _weeks._ )

At the top, the statement: _Paige Dineen and Walter O’Brien should commence a romantic relationship_

In the _Opposing_ column:

  1. _Potential harm to Ralph_
  2. _Potential harm to cyclone_
  3. _Potential harm to Team Scorpion_
  4. _My poor track record with relationships_
  5. _Nothing significantly wrong with the status quo_
  6. _Potentially projecting own feelings onto situation- not completely certain feelings are actually requited_



In the _Supporting_ column:

  1. _Probability of screwing it all up- low. Sylvester estimates based on current data- 3%. I concur._
  2. _Ergo- low probability of harm to Ralph, cyclone, team_
  3. _You are different from all the others_
  4. _You accept and care for my family- we are **all** a cyclone_
  5. _I agree that Ralph should be your priority, and I have successfully connected with Ralph already- probability of finding another individual who also does so- completely statistically insignificant- note: have completed significant research on engaging in relationships with unattached women with offspring_
  6. _Status quo is problematic- beginning to seriously suffer from lack of sleep, Toby is becoming even more annoying than usual, according to Happy, ‘mutual pining’ is ‘driving [team] crazy’_
  7. _Likely explanation for doubts on whether feelings are actually requited- own doubts, fears, and insecurities, rather than any objective evidence_



Walter sighs. The list is so heavily weighted towards _Supporting._

(As if that were ever in doubt. After _months_ of emotional turmoil, sorting out all of his own feelings, _months_ of this strange _in-between,_ he knew exactly what he wanted and exactly what he was going to do. He only started this list because he wants to commence a romantic relationship with Paige anyway. But he wants her to see it from both sides, wants her to make an informed decision...that is only fair on her, and only logical...but he can’t deny that he is also trying to bias her at the same time. Ergo, research on relationships with single mothers and weeks writing this list. Toby would doubtlessly say that he’s trying to prove that he is the best mate for her, that it’s all his base instincts coming out. Walter thinks that he’s probably right, but is never going to admit that.)

Well, if she’s going to make an informed decision, he has to add one more point to the _Supporting_ column:

  1. _I think I might be in love with you_




	18. Team Chemistry

Ralph puts down the Chemistry textbook, lost in thought.

_Fascinating._

His cyclone corresponds nicely to the various Groups of the Periodic Table.

Walter is akin to the Noble Gases. Noble Gases are typically highly unreactive, except under extreme conditions. Walter is also typically unreactive, except under extreme conditions.  Hence, the inertness of noble gases makes them very suitable in applications where reactions are not wanted, but the inertness may also be undesirable in certain circumstances. Just like Walter’s inertness.

Happy is the equivalent of the Alkali Earth Metals. Alkali Earth Metals are fairly reactive metals under standard temperature and pressure. Happy is also fairly reactive under standard temperature and pressure (and even more so under non-standard conditions). 

Sylvester is represented by the Alkali Metals. Highly reactive at standard temperature and pressure, Alkali Metals are soft and easily oxidised, and must be stored carefully under oil to prevent reaction with air.  They must be carefully cared for, protected, just like the human calculator.

Toby is the equivalent of the Halogens. Halogens are extremely variable in terms of their physical properties, and extremely electronegative, easily attracting electrons. Toby is also variable, and excels at attracting people (or so he insists). Halogens are also particularly reactive with Alkali Earths, forming stable ionic crystals with them.

Cabe is analogous to the Metalloids. Metalloids have a metallic appearance, yet they are brittle and only fair conductors of electricity, instead behaving mostly as non-metals, chemically speaking. Cabe appears to be strong and stern and cold, yet behaves much the opposite much of the time.

His mother is represented by the Rare Earth Elements. Rare Earths, despite their name, are relatively plentiful on Earth. Yet, they are typically dispersed and not often found concentrated, so are effectively scarce. His mother may be a normal, but she is a _rare_ one indeed.


	19. Trying for Tomorrow

Toby is _trying._

He really, really is.

He’s nudging Happy, trying to get her to let him in.

He’s doing his best to try and censor the stuff that comes out of his mouth. (Trying not to earn her ire, trying to be respectful.)

He’s doing his best to always be there for her. (To prove to her that he’s not that different from a tool- he won’t let her down.)

He’s doing his best not to gamble excessively.

He’s _trying._

* * *

Happy is trying.

She really, really is.

She’s trying to let Toby in.

She’s trying to rein in her temper a bit, and not take it out excessively on him. (Trying to take a deep breath, trying to resist the urge to throttle him- he doesn’t deserve it. Most of the time. She knows that.)

She’s trying to allow herself to lean on him. (And trying to prove to him that she trusts him, almost as much as her tools.)

She’s trying to show him that she’s there for him, when it all becomes too much and he feels he has to satisfy his addiction. (Even if her way of doing that is just yelling at him for his foolishness.)

She’s _trying._

* * *

In the end, their efforts pay off.

One morning, Toby looks up from his books, to see Happy dropping two tickets on his desk.

He glances up at her ( _not quite daring to believe it)_ , before looking down at the tickets. They’re for a monster truck rally.

The mechanical prodigy shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another.

When she speaks, her tone sounds almost as brusque and unaffected as usual, but he knows her so well, he doesn’t have to be a genius behaviourist to know that she’s nervous and a little scared.

‘You, me, tomorrow night. Be there.’

And then she walks off.

Toby grins, and whoops ( _I told you, you wouldn’t be able to resist me!)_ , resisting the urge to run up to her, grab her and kiss the living daylights out of her.

_Tomorrow._

Happy rolls her eyes ( _he’ll never change)_ , smiling.

_Tomorrow._


	20. Storm in the Cyclone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now very, very, very AU. Remember - this whole thing was written during the really early run of the show, and this whole story was done before 1.11, Revenge. (It was canon-compliant up until then...)

‘I can’t do this anymore, Paige.’

She knew instantly what Drew was referring to. There were only a handful of topics that she would converse with him about, and Ralph was one of them.

She replied, tone soft and gentle, but with a steely edge. ( _She thinks she knows the direction this conversation might take...and she doesn’t like it.)_

‘Give it time. Ralph’s special. He’s different from us. It takes time, and it takes a lot of effort.’

He flung his hands up in exasperation.

‘That’s it, Paige! I’ve tried, damn it, I’ve tried! For _eight months,_ I’ve tried! But I’m not getting _anywhere_ with him...we’re just not connecting.’

Paige crossed her arms.

‘Well, it would help if you’d actually spent the whole eight months around, instead of going away every other week-‘

‘You know perfectly well that I have to travel for work!’

He ran a hand through his hair, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, gentler.

‘Look, Paige. I really want to connect with him. I’m his father, and I want to actually _be_ that. But I just _can’t_ form any sort of bond with him. Hell, we can’t even hold a conversation-‘

‘Yes, you can!’

‘If Walter’s around to give us both pointers!’

Drew brought his hand up to his forehead.

‘Paige, we both know that he’s more of a father to Ralph than I’ll ever manage to be. I never even bonded with Ralph when he was little, _which was my fault_ -‘

‘That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be here for him, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try! Seriously, Drew, I still need Walter’s help, or Sly, or Toby or Happy’s help to connect with Ralph, but-‘

Her ex shook his head.

‘ _No, you don’t._ Who does he run to when he has a nightmare? Who does he like to tuck him in at night?’

Paige was silent.

‘Paige, this is _really difficult_ for me. _Really, really difficult._ You don’t think it _hurts_ to essentially see another man be my son’s father? You don’t think it _hurts_ me to know that they share a bond that I’ll never have with him? _I can’t take this anymore_!’

Paige rounded on him.

‘You still owe it to Ralph, Drew!’

She took a deep breath, and tried to soften her tone.

‘It makes me upset, sometimes, that Ralph will be closer to Walter, Toby, Happy and Sylvester than he is to me soon. But I’m still here for him. I know it must be hard on you, but you _owe it to him.’_

Drew smiled sadly.

‘You’re...you’re an angel, Paige. Always were. But I’m not.’

He took a deep breath.

‘I got a job. Coaching high school baseball. Out in Boston.’

(He’s  leaving. As she suspected when this conversation started.)

Somehow, though, this admission, the concrete plans to _leave_ caused rage to boil up inside of her.

‘So you’re leaving Ralph again? Abandoning him? What happened to doing right by Ralph? After I let you back into his life, you’re abandoning him again? Do you have any idea-‘

He backed away.

‘You have every right to be angry, Paige. Tell...tell Ralph I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

‘You’re not going to tell him yourself? _What happened to doing right by him?_ You-‘

He simply turned around and left.

He didn’t look back.

(Privately, he thought, this might be doing right by Ralph. He wasn’t blind.)

Paige flung her handbag at the garage’s exterior wall.

_How could he do this to Ralph?_

* * *

Listening to the shouting match through the door, Happy and Toby glanced at one another.

Sylvester had listened to the start of the conversation, before declaring he was certain the outcome could only be negative.

He was currently in his bedroom, crying, because Ralph was going to be _heart-broken_ , and Paige was not going to be in a positive emotional state either...

Toby plucked his hat off his head.

‘I’m going to kill that man. I’m going to-‘

Happy pulled out her wallet and handed him a hundred bucks.

‘Go.’

With a brief thank you nod, Toby stalked off. He needed to gamble off some tension, or he might do something _really_ stupid.

Happy sat down in Toby’s chair.

There was something she needed to say to Paige.

About fifteen minutes later, the other woman walked in, eyes red. Happy had picked up enough body language analysis skills from Toby to know that she was also still angry.

‘Hey, Paige, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’ve got to hear it, so I’m going to say it. It’s hard. Being around people like us. Looking after us. I know Ralph’s...Ralph’s gonna be hurt. And I know you are too.’

She took a deep breath.

‘He tried. Yeah, he failed, but he tried. No matter what he did in the past...that’s still better than a lot of people.’

She fidgeted, uncomfortable, shifting her weight from one leg to another.

‘But maybe one day, when Ralph’s grown up a bit, and so has he, when time’s passed and things are a little easier...Ralph might forgive him, and they might connect.’

Paige snorted.

‘He’s already had a second chance, Happy.’

The mechanical prodigy shrugged.

‘Maybe...maybe Ralph might decide he deserves a third one day.’

Paige shook her head and stormed up the stairs.

(A little part of her knew that Happy _might_ have a point...but she was too angry to care.)

Happy, completely unaffected by Paige’s brusque manner, picked up her wrench.

She had some tension of her own to work off.

* * *

Meanwhile, Walter had listened to the argument through the open loft window.

When Drew turned to leave, he flung the mug he was holding across the room. It shattered.

There was a maelstrom of emotions within him.

He set to work trying to identify some of them, even as he was completely overwhelmed.

_Satisfaction. Some sort of savage joy. The man was gone. He’d ultimately been right._

_Betrayal. Hurt. He’d helped him. Helped him! Trusted him...to an extent. Believed that maybe he would do the right thing (and he had for a while). He was wrong._

But the predominant emotion was _anger._

_A burning anger. A desire, almost a need, to break the man’s ribs, to try to tear him, limb from limb...for hurting members of his cyclone...for traumatising Ralph yet again...for hurting Paige...for abandoning them..._

_(This anger brought forth questions: why? Why did he feel this way? Ralph was fairly straightforward- he was developing a paternal bond with the child genius, completely predictable considering how much of himself he saw in the boy. But regarding Paige...his anger evoked other...messy...feelings regarding her that he’d been trying to process and sort out...he pushed them back into the compartment where he kept them. He couldn’t deal with so much at once.)_

The feelings refused to go back into the box. At least, not completely.

He grabbed a plate and flung it at the wall.

Still angry at Drew, and confused and frustrated, he seized another mug and threw it.

Attempting to wrest control of himself again, Walter took three deep breaths and reeled off the first fifty digits of Pi in his head.

A clear thought popped into his mind.

_Ralph and Paige may have been abandoned again. But this time, they are not alone._

_I will not let them be._

(The messy emotions reared their heads again. He pushed them away more firmly. There was something he had to do before he could deal with them. Something more important.)

* * *

Moments later, Paige entered the loft.

She took a seat, seemingly ignoring Walter.

Silently, he walked over and sat down on a stool next to her.

The sat there in silence for a moment.

Eventually, Paige broke it.

‘I was wrong. And you were right....You were right when you tried to stop me from letting him meet Ralph...Oh, God, Ralph, he’s going to be...’ She gave a choked sob. ‘ _What have I done_?’

Walter stood, walked over to the bench, and grabbed a box of tissues, offering them to Paige, who took one with a small nod of thanks.

(He was _not_ good with crying women. But he had to _try.)_

Gathering his thoughts, the genius spoke.

‘Firstly, Ralph will be okay. He has you. He has me. He has Toby and Happy and Sylvester and even Cabe. He’ll be okay.’

He took a deep breath.

‘Secondly, I _wasn’t_ right. I thought he had an ulterior motive.’

He sought out her gaze, locking eyes with her.

(Eye contact implied honesty and was useful for reassurance. It was particularly effective on Paige.)

‘Thirdly, _you were right_ , Paige.’

She flung her hands up in the air, more tears falling.

‘But he abandoned Ralph! Again! I was wrong!’

(Walter noted her use of _Ralph_ instead of _us,_ filling away that titbit of information for later analysis.)

Paige’s belief was incorrect. She _did not_ do the wrong thing, and she _was not_ wrong. He had to disprove that belief.

‘Did you think he would stay? Be able to connect with Ralph?’ He looked earnestly at her. ‘Why did you let him meet Ralph?’

Paige’s shoulders shook slightly, before she took a deep breath, and dried her eyes.

‘I thought Ralph should have the chance...the chance to try and get to know his father...bond with him...’

She trailed off and fell silent, and Walter knew that she’d seen the truth.

He locked eyes with her again.

‘You were right, Paige. You were right. You did the right thing for Ralph. You _always do the right thing for him. Always._ ’

And like she did whenever Walter said such things as if they were _fact_ , Paige felt better. (Only a little better, but still _better_.)

Quite suddenly, she flung her arms around him.

Shocked, Walter hesitantly returned the gesture.

They sat there for a moment, silent.

Then Paige extracted herself from his embrace, and glanced around the loft. She noticed the broken crockery.

‘Oh, Walter...you’re upset too, and I’ve gone and-‘

He shook his head firmly.

‘I...I am not fine...but I will be okay. Don’t worry about me. Ralph needs you more.’ He gestured to the pile of tissues beside them. ‘And your emotional state is not optimal either.’

They stared at each other for a moment.

Walter was fairly certain he could see gratitude on her face...and something else that confused him greatly.

‘I’ve...I’ve got to go pick Ralph up from school. And...break the news to him...I won’t be back tonight, and I don’t know if I’ll be in tomorrow-‘

‘We’ll manage. Making sure Ralph and you are alright should be your priority.’

She smiled softly at him.

‘Thanks, Walter.’

Paige leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek, before departing to pick Ralph up from school...leaving a very, very confused and emotionally addled genius frozen in the loft.


	21. Got Your Back

Happy’s not blind.

She’s also not Walter.

Her EQ is not as low as the bottom of the Marianas Trench.

(Although, to be fair, Walt’s improving of late.)

There’s still _something_ between Cabe and his ex-wife.

(Toby, predictably, has some more...interesting...ways of describing it. _Broken unspoken promises, years of pining and inability to forget, a pinch of grief, anger and resentment, with a touch of complication in the form of a spouse...)_

Simply put, there’s still love (whatever that really means) there.

She watches. ( _How could she not_? She’s a genius _and_ a woman.)

And she comes to a conclusion.

Love means always having their back.

She glances over at Toby’s desk.

She’s not blind to his feelings.

(He makes it pretty damn obvious.)

And he’s always got her back.

Even if half the time it’s _completely unnecessary_ because she is _perfectly fine_ on her own and _perfectly capable_ of doing it by herself.

(She did not need a boost to get through that window!)

Still, it’s nice to know there’s someone there when she needs help.

It’s nice to know that someone’s always got her back.


	22. Greater Good Scenario Complicated by Personal Involvment

Walter knows he can’t give Drew an objective answer.

(Besides, the other man is _presuming_ so much to think that Ralph and Paige might go with him. But...Paige _will do it_ if she thinks it’s best for Ralph. She will _take them away from him_ – no. He pushes that thought firmly away).

And that is precisely why he can’t give Drew an objective answer.

He can’t stand the idea of losing them.

He already knew that.

And he knows even more, when he sees the pain Cabe and Rebecca feel about Amanda, sees the letters drafted on her computer, sees Cabe’s reaction to his ex-wife’s kidnapping.

(How can he understand and process these emotions? Why can he see this? Perhaps it is because of his long relationship with Cabe? Perhaps because since he himself _hypothetically_ may be experiencing loss of valued individuals from his life, he has a greater ability to empathise?)

_I don’t have an answer for you._

That’s what he says.

It’s the best thing to say.

He is not objective; therefore, he should not give an answer. It would not be a valid answer. He supposes he could explain why he is not objective, and then give an answer, so Drew can take into account his lack of objectivity when considering his response, but he has no desire to explain his...mess of feelings...to the man. Besides, if he were to come up with an answer that was as objective as possible, a _recommendation..._ and if that were for Drew to take Ralph and Paige with him, he wouldn’t _really_ mean it (it _can’t_ be the best course of action, it _can’t_ be) and since when did he _say things he did not mean?_

It’s also the honest thing to say. The truth.

He really doesn’t know what to do in this situation. Doesn’t know what is best.

( _Is trying not to think about it.)_

(Maybe it won’t come to pass.)

(Hopefully.)


	23. Terror

Sylvester is terrified of many things.

But the garage being ransacked, _invaded_ , terrifies him approximately 65% more than average.

It actually terrifies him more than having to go on the run, go off the grid, and more than what that means ( _we could die)._

That is moderately irrational.

Not completely, because the garage is _home._ It is their sanctuary, their safe place. Where they can be themselves and do what they want to do without fear of judgement or exploitation. Where the people are friendly and kind to them, and where everyone is a member of the cyclone. It’s the place where they keep their projects, their escapes.

He, perhaps more than all the others, really, really needs a home, a sanctuary. A constant.

He _hates_ change.

He _hates_ differences in his routine.

They make him nervous. ( _All the possibilities of harm, for contamination, infection- his routine is carefully designed to minimise these)_

Before the garage was ransacked, he was _already_ shaken, by the possibility that Ralph and Paige ( _members of his cyclone- it may have taken a while for him to accept Paige, but she was an important member of his family now)_ might be leaving them. The possibility of change.

(It was a definite possibility. Drew was now pitching 3 miles faster. That would likely get him trials with Major League teams, or at least better Minor League teams. He thus would likely be moving, and it was definitely possible that Ralph and Paige may shift with him. Unlikely, but _possible.)_

 He is fearful of losing all of this- losing the safe place, losing the sanctuary that the garage provides. Losing the family, the acceptance and welcome and safety that Team Scorpion, his cyclone, provides.

Looking at the broken, damaged, Proton Arnold machine, he feels fear strike his heart.

But watching Walter promise Ralph that they will work on fixing the machine ( _together),_ seeing tangible evidence of their _bond,_ seeing a reminder that _things can be fixed and repaired and set to rights,_ he feels hope.


	24. Talismans and Tokens

‘They’re a sign of weakness.’

‘They’re a sign of humanity.’

‘Exactly.’

_Humanity isn’t weakness._

Paige _knows_ that Walter knows that, somewhere deep down.

She knows, for _sure_.

‘This is what we’re fighting for.’

(And he _stands down_. And she knows that he understands somehow, or is trying to.)

 ‘Paige, it’s melted. It’s gone. I’m _sorry.’_

(She knows it’s genuine, because Walter _does not say things he doesn’t mean_. Can’t really.)

 How could he not know that humanity isn’t weakness, when he sees his sister, or his team, what he does for them, what he’s willing to do for them? Or the way he behaves around Ralph? Or when he tries to save Corbett, tells them all to get out of there, because _I do not want you here if this does not work?_

(He’s not completely unaware of this, he can’t be. Walter is extremely, extremely self-aware.)

But, she also knows, he will probably never admit it. At least out loud.

Never admit that to be human is not to be weak.

And that makes her truly sad. And hence upset, and a bit irritated. Because Walter is still a man. A different one. An exceptional one. A great one. But still a man.

( _A man that that has grown to mean a lot to her_ , a voice in the back of her mind whispers.)

 But that also gives her purpose. She is determined to remind Walter that he is _human._

‘I’d offer you a good luck charm, but I know you don’t believe in that, so just get back safe, okay?’

(And showing humanity, hence possibly raising emotional responses within him, might well be the best way to do that.)

* * *

‘They’re a sign of weakness.’

‘They’re a sign of humanity.’

‘Exactly.’

He’s always kept that box hidden.

The little box of talismans.

(His _humanity._ His _weakness._ )

_‘It bothers me that I keep that box of trinkets.’_

It really does.

It shows that he cares. It’s physical evidence of _attachment._

Walter has a task mind.

_(‘He’s had people shot. He’s had people die. Yet he can still focus on work.’)_

He knows that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.

But caring can be a weakness. Caring results in illogical actions. Inefficiency. Hence danger and threats and trouble.

(They are in Bosnia to recover the software. Logically, recovering the software is more important. It’s a threat to national security. The pilot is not.)

But then he thinks, _what would Paige do?,_ _what would Paige think?._ And that helps him to process through and realize some things. Understand some things.

(He notes down for future reference that not only is it easier to empathize and understand others’ emotions when one has been through a similar scenario or experienced similar emotions, or is experiencing similar emotions, but also when one has a _connection_ to someone who is experiencing similar emotions.)

He wants to bring that man home.

And he sort of thinks he understands what Corbett means. Because if it was one of his team...one of his cyclone...he would do _anything_ to get them home. _Anything_ to save them.

And he sees that photo of the boy, the pilot’s son...and he’s just a kid, like Ralph. Obviously, they are completely different, with different backgrounds, different IQs, and so on and so forth...but he’s still a kid, just like Ralph.

And he sort of understands why Paige so badly wants to bring his dad back, bring the necklace back. Because if something were to happen to him...when he thinks about it, considers it, he would want Ralph to have something, a talisman to remember him by...

(It’s no different from what he wanted, when Megan was sick with a fever and there was no hope.)

So:

_‘Jim?’_

_‘Hold still. Listen to me.’_

_'I can get you out of this.’_

_‘Take off, O’Brien.’_

(Ignores him.)

_‘I do not want you here if this does not work.’_

_‘I hope to see you guys soon.’_

He has to re-evaluate whether humanity is weakness.

_(‘This is what we’re fighting for_.’)

Having something worth fighting for, something to motivate oneself, _really_ helps when solving problems. It’s not completely irrational- adrenaline can make one work faster, but he somehow doesn’t think that’s the trick. This, he thinks, might just be one of those things that don’t have an explanation.

Also, it unifies people. Brings them together. Thus increasing efficiency and ability. He and Corbett are proof of that.

So he takes the coin.

(And gives something in return.)


	25. Growth and Development

She doesn’t want to die.

But at least she knows her brother will be okay now when she does.

She knows he won’t be alone.

He has a family now, not just her.

(Their parents were good people...but they simply never connected with Walter.)

And she’s seen him grow. Develop.

(He really has, and that _astonishes_ her because before Scorpion, there were years where it seemed that he was exactly the same, year in, year out.)

He doesn’t push his emotions away all the time anymore. Well, sometimes he tries, but they are cajoled out. Or sometimes pushed. Paige is a godsend, really. She knows that much before she even meets her; the growth of her brother’s EQ is noticeable even though she sees him only once a week. Even when she’s not there, Paige can make her brother _actually try and deal with his feelings_.

(And she knows that there’s something special growing between her brother and the single mother. Walter might think he’s good at hiding his feelings, but he’s her brother and she _just knows._ )

He lets the box issue rest. That shows how far he’s come.

She knows that he knows _someone_ must have moved it, but he doesn’t get all defensive, and then she knows her little baby brother’s growing up.

She still doesn’t want to die.

But she feels a little better about it (just a little), because Walter’s going to be just fine.

(Really fine, not _fine_ like he always insists he is- or at least, always used to insist he was.)

(He’s grown.)


	26. 525,600 Minutes

Frustrated, Walter picked up a bean bag from a pile of them and hurled it at the wall.

(The bean bags were a gift from Paige. She’d noticed that he tended to throw crockery when upset. Bean bags, she suggested, would be better, due to the cost of replacement crockery and the potential dangers. He’d agreed with her logic at the time...but now, staring at the bean bag slumped against the wall, he realized that crockery was vastly superior in terms of actually relieving anger and frustration. There simply was less satisfaction and relief gained from throwing an object when it didn’t shatter.)

He took a deep breath, then another. He reeled off the first fifty digits of Pi in his head, then the first fifty elements of the Periodic Table.

He was not making any significant progress with Cabe Junior.

No, he was getting continually frustrated.

He was having immense difficulty solving this problem.

Having immense difficulty _fixing his sister._

This...this was absurd.

He had an IQ of 197.

He was the fourth most intelligent person to have ever lived.

And he couldn’t solve the problem of MS.

(Somewhere in his mind, a voice of reason, which sounded suspiciously like Paige, pointed out that while he might be the fourth smartest person ever, hundreds or even thousands of very, very intelligent medical researchers had spent years, whole careers, trying to cure MS, to no avail. It was simply irrational for him to expect to fix the problem alone in a few years, working on it only a few hours a week, when he had no medical training. He ignored the voice.)

Walter seized another bean bag from the pile and threw it at the wall.

Then, he picked up a mug, and was just about to chuck it when he was interrupted.

‘Walter, go see her.’

_Paige._

(He knew she was referring to Megan. He didn’t have to ask why she knew the reason for his frustration. Paige was good at reading him, understanding him. Besides, it was the only logical conclusion. They were not working any cases. Drew was gone. There was no other reason for him to be frustrated, and he’d announced...how long ago was it now? He’d been up here working how long?...well, however long ago, that he was going to work with Cabe Junior.)

He turned to look at her.

 ‘But it’s not Friday.’

She smiled at him softly, and shook her head, before reaching out and taking the mug out of his hands, placing it out of his reach.

‘Is there a rule?’

Walter loosened his tie, and took another deep breath.

(He was already feeling calmer. Paige tended to have that effect on him when he was in these moods.)

‘It doesn’t change the fact that...that she’s only got...’ He looked down at the floor, before glancing up again. ‘My time would be better served here trying to fix her.’

Paige sighed, and took his hands, guiding him over to the couch, before sitting down beside him.

(He was acutely aware that she did not let go of his hands, even after they were seated.)

‘Walter...regardless of whether she has MS or not, Megan’s time is limited, just like all of ours. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve nearly died. We could die tomorrow.’ She paused for a moment, and her gaze bored into his. ‘Go make memories, Walter. Have fun. Do something that you’ll remember forever-‘

(Forever was an illogical term in this scenario. But Walter had long become accustomed to this inaccurate use of terminology, and come to understand what it really means- _for a lifetime._ )

‘I have a nearly eidetic memory, regardless of what activity...‘

He trailed off, because Paige was giving him _that_ look.

‘Walter. Do something special together. Do something that _she_ will remember forever. At the end of the day, that’s what makes her time, not the actual number of minutes she has.’

He nodded slowly.

Paige was right.

(This was her area of expertise. And it was very similar to what Megan told him, too. She wanted to make memories, make the most of what time she had left. And she wanted him to join in. And...if he thought about it...the memories _were_ more important than the minutes. He collected those talismans to remember, after all. And to make more time was impossible- so far anyway- but to make more memories was fairly easy.)

‘Okay.’ He nodded again. ‘Okay. I’ll go visit her.’

He yawned.

Suddenly, he felt very tired.

Paige was instantly alert. She let go of his hands (which gave him a strange jolt of disappointment- something he would have to analyse and process later) and frowned.

 ‘When was the last time you slept?’

‘Seven and a half hours before I informed you that I was going to work with Cabe Junior-’

‘Walter, that was almost 22 hours ago. Have a nap before you go see her, just an hour. Hospital visiting hours don’t finish for another four. I’ll wake you up in an hour, promise.’

He smiled at her.

‘Thank you, Paige.’

He walked over to his bedroom, and opened the door, slipping off his shoes.

He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Paige placed his shoes neatly beside the bed, and covered him with a blanket, singing softly to herself.

 _‘525,600 minutes. How do you measure a year in the life? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. How do you measure a year in the life? How about love?_ ’

As she closed the door, still singing under her breath, Walter smiled in his sleep.


	27. Christmas with the Cyclone

Like many people around the world on the 25th of December, Sylvester was bent over the open door of the oven, carefully examining a large fowl.

However, unlike 65% of people, he was concentrating on a special turkey thermometer that he’d purchased especially for this occasion, and unlike over 99% of those who actually used turkey thermometers, his primary objective was not taste and ensuring the turkey was not overcooked, but ensuring that it had reached an internal temperate of 165 degrees Fahrenheit and was thus safe to eat.

Checking the final portion of the turkey (left upper thigh), and finding that it had indeed reached 165 degrees (allowing for the margin of error of this thermometer, of course), he grinned and removed the turkey from the oven.

_Perfect._

(It was going to be a perfect, _safe_ , Christmas. He knew it.)

* * *

‘Oh, come on, Happy-‘

‘No, Curtis! I am not putting that thing on!’

Toby was holding a rather skimpy Santa’s Little Helper costume, looking imploringly at the mechanical prodigy.

‘Please?’

She glared at him.

‘I’m not wearing that! If you like it so much, _you_ wear it!’

And she stormed off.

Toby pondered for a moment.

‘Hey, Happy, if I wear it, will I get-‘

An oily rag hit him in the stomach.

‘Oh, not a wrench, which would cause me serious physical harm. Instead, you chose to throw an oil rag at me, which while it expresses irritation, does not cause any lasting or significant damage. Ergo, you like me! You really, really-‘

A wrench flew past his head.

Toby decided to shut up.

(It was _Christmas._ He should probably at least _try_ and not rile her up too much.)

* * *

‘Okay, so now that we’ve added the silver nitrate to the nitric acid, we need to add 1.2 times the volume of 95% ethanol to the reaction vessel...’

Ralph smiled up at Walter.

Both geniuses were clad in lab coats and safety goggles.

(Walter was doing all the handling of the chemicals. Ralph was simply observing. As bright as he was, Ralph was too young to be handling potentially dangerous substances. He had, however, allowed Ralph to handle the silver nitrate while wearing gloves using a spatula. Brief exposure to small amounts was not dangerous.)

‘...and then place it in a hot water bath until the mixture reaches 60 degrees Celsius, and keep it stable at that temperature until a white precipitate forms.’

Walter nodded, adding the ethanol as he did so.

‘Then we’ll have some silver fulminate, and we can make our crackers.’

Ralph cocked his head to one side.

‘Including ourselves, there are 8 individuals who will be celebrating Christmas with us. If each individual pulls a cracker with every other individual, we will require 28 crackers. This will require more silver fulminate than can be produced without it self-detonating, so we shall have to repeat this process multiple times.’

‘Exactly. While I am preparing additional silver fulminate, you could begin preparing and decorating the outer shells of the crackers.’

(Walter had a feeling that Ralph would enjoy that task. Genius or not, he was a 9 year old boy.)

(He had a nearly eidetic memory. Of course he remembered what it was like to be a 9 year old boy genius.)

Ralph grinned.

‘That would maximise efficiency.’

Walter grinned back.

‘Yes, yes it would. Oh, and between you and me, if we increase the amount of silver fulminate used in each cracker by 1/16th, and the grit size of the sandpaper used as the abrasive by one size, in comparison to average commercial crackers, we will increase the explosiveness of the crackers without increasing the risk of injury or damage.’

Ralph’s grin grew even wider.

‘That’s cool. Really cool.’

He quickly removed his lab coat and goggles, straightening the tie he had borrowed from Walter (‘ _Christmas celebrations require slightly nicer attire than I posses. Walter, may I umm...may I borrow one of your ties?’),_ and hurried downstairs to retrieve the paper they had purchased to use as the outer shells of the crackers.

Walter had a sudden (irrational) urge to play Christmas carols ( _and maybe even sing along to them)._

He hadn’t felt so cheerful, so carefree, for a long time.

He resisted the urge to delve into the _why._ (It was probably associated with his interaction with Ralph moments before. Thinking about his relationship with Ralph inevitably led to the Drew Incident and the associated complicated emotions...no, he was not going down that path.)

He shrugged.

He was just going to enjoy the carefree feeling.

(It was Christmas, after all.)

* * *

Happy smiled to herself, finally satisfied.

The garage was a veritable kaleidoscope of coloured lights and glowing baubles.

The Scorpion sign was no longer the only glowing object present, nor was it the only thing decorated with fairy lights. (Walter hadn’t said anything about his sister’s decorating of the sign while they were in Bosnia, so they’d just left it there, understanding that if he didn’t say anything about removing it, he wanted it there. Just didn’t want to express it.)

It’d taken her 16 hours, but she was done.  (And just in time, too. It was already Christmas- their party would be starting in only a couple of hours.)

And it looked really good, if she said so herself.

(Add plenty of good food and her cyclone, and it would be just like she always imagined Christmas to look like.)

* * *

‘Is it time to open presents yet?’

Ralph looked almost imploringly at the adults.

(Who had taken an illogically long time to eat dinner. Eating excessively quickly was bad for digestion; however, they had taken 54% longer than optimum.)

Because they were celebrating Christmas with the whole cyclone (a definite improvement on celebrating Christmas with just the two of them), his mother had insisted that he wait until their Christmas party to open his gifts.

Originally, it had been planned as a late lunch, however, owing to a case (Ralph wondered whether criminals celebrated Christmas, considering they seemed to engage in illegal activities on Christmas Eve), preparations had been delayed, so they’d ended up having a Christmas dinner instead.

(That meant he had to wait longer to open his presents. Which sucked.)

(Genius or not, he was a kid. He liked getting presents, and there was something illogically satisfying about tearing open wrapping paper.)

That morning, when he and his mother had Christmas breakfast with his father, he had been allowed to open a gift from him. (Which was labelled as being from Santa, but was obviously from him, since Santa Claus was a fabrication. He couldn’t possibly be real- it was not possible for anyone to be inhabiting the North Pole without having been discovered to date, it was not possible to deliver that many gifts in one night, reindeer could not fly, and if anyone were to do so much stalking, they would have been arrested by the FBI by now. Or turned into an intelligence asset for the CIA or the NSA.)

But still, he wanted to open the rest of them!

His mother and Walter shared a glance.

‘He has been very patient, Paige.’

She smiled at the curly-haired man, before turning to her son.

‘Yes, it’s time. Go ahead, Ralph.’

He beamed.

An almost-as-excited Toby immediately picked Ralph up.

‘Come on, Ralph-man! The presents await!’

Approximately 20 minutes later, surrounded by wrapping paper, with his mother running her fingers through his hair and Walter’s hand on his left shoulder, watching Happy and Toby have a wrapping-paper fight while Sylvester dodged the projectiles, Megan laughed and Cabe rolled his eyes, Ralph came to a solid conclusion.

This was the _best Christmas ever_.

* * *

Cabe took another gulp of his eggnog.

This had to be the weirdest Christmas he’d ever experienced.

Homemade crackers.(They were unusual enough here in the States, but Walter seemed to have kept something at least from his Irish roots, and then proceeded to put his own genius spin on it- he’d never seen such explosive ones in his life!)

Wrapping paper fights. (Honestly, Toby and Happy needed to be locked in an enclosed space for a few hours together. Either she’d kill him, or they’d get married, problem solved either way.)

A 9 year old boy who didn’t believe in Santa but was excited to open presents anyway, with a mum and dad who weren’t really his mum and dad in the traditional sense. (He did _not_ miss all of those little glances. Even a blind man wouldn’t, for goodness sakes.)

He swears that he heard _Walter_ humming _Christmas carols_ when he arrived in the early evening.

(He must be starting to go senile.)

Still, he thought, as he took another gulp of his eggnog: weird or not, this Christmas was growing on him.

(Just like this crazy group of kids.)

(And hey, that turkey was delicious and perfectly cooked.)

* * *

Megan helped herself to a third helping of everything.

She looked up to find seven people staring at her.

Walter spoke first.

‘Are you sure it’s wise to consume that much food?’

(It was probably testament to his emotional development, and their relationship, that he phrased his response as a question and not a statement.)

Megan took a bite of the simply delicious turkey, swallowed, and replied.

‘It’s not hospital food. I’m practically obliged to eat far too much of it.’

(And it was Christmas. If there was ever a time where there was an obligation to overindulge...)

* * *

Paige woke slowly.

Her neck was sore. Her left arm was numb.

As she gradually became more aware, she realized why.

She’d fallen asleep sitting on the couch, and Ralph was asleep on her left side, part of his weight resting on his arm.

(They’d all fallen asleep in the ‘living room’ of the garage last night, having stayed up late watching movies.)

She shifted slightly, carefully avoiding hitting Walter’s head (he’d fallen asleep sitting on the floor, head resting on the edge of the couch in front of her and Ralph), and glancing over to make sure Megan was okay. (She’d resisted Walter’s attempts to make her sleep in his bed, instead curling up on the other side of the couch.)

Carefully, Paige placed a cushion under Ralph’s head and stood, avoiding stepping on Toby and Happy, who’d fallen asleep sort-of spooning on the floor, and ignoring Sylvester (who was slumped over the Proton Arnold machine) and Cabe (who was sound asleep at Walter’s desk- from the light snoring, it seemed that special agents could sleep quite comfortably at desks).

Finally clear of the mess of sleeping bodies, she glanced back over at them all.

They looked so peaceful, so comfortable and at ease with one another.

Their dysfunctional little family of misfits.

Their cyclone.

She smiled.

What a wonderful Christmas it had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is all I wrote! I hope you enjoyed!


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